Azrael
by Karl V
Summary: This Azrael series starts off right before No Man's Land started.


Azrael: Chaos of Order  
Written by Karl V.   
  
  
  
  
"What are you doing here?" The tone was as course as the bitter wind that blew   
across Jean Paul Valley's face.   
He didn't reply immediately, but he had a reason for choosing this spot. "Look,   
I'm sorry. I left a message with Oracle."   
The strong black haired man was still not pleased. This precise spot of the   
tunnel was where he had to defeat the System crazed Batman. For Bruce Wayne,   
this spot brought back a lot of harsh memories about his mistake.   
"Jean Paul, you disappeared without specific notice of where you went. How do I   
know that the System hasn't taken complete control again? Especially with your   
choice of locale."   
Jean Paul rolled up his sleeves, displaying the burned tattoos of a Dragon and a   
Tiger. Bruce paused for a moment then he shook his head.   
"Do you honestly think mangling your body will rid you of the System?" Bruce's   
tone continued to be extremely curt with the young man.   
Jean Paul lowered his head. "I know it won't. But, I've been into too many   
situations where I was helpless. Something at the monastery broke a barrier of   
the System down. All the martial art training Azrael received, I now know."  
"I'd like to test the truth of that statement, but not right now. You still   
haven't explained about the location."   
Jean Paul slowly took out one of the gauntlets for his costume. He extended the   
magnesium-alloyed blade and lit it on fire. He pointed down. "I wanted you to   
know that even though Azrael is still inside, Jean Paul Valley has now become a   
man."   
Bruce looked down to see the flames dance around his shadow. He looked up and   
gave a rare wry smile. "You expected me in costume. The metaphor kind of loses   
it effect."   
"I can't get everything I want. But, you got the point." Jean Paul shrugged as   
he withdrew the blade.   
Bruce remained stoic. "Your Swiss account will remain open. If you need   
anything,"   
"I'll contact Oracle." Jean Paul was quick to interrupt. "And, how did you   
escape the monks?"   
Bruce folded his untouched arms. "Ancient Chinese secret."   
Jean Paul was amazed the man could even joke. "Look, I need to go. There's some   
other unfinished business."   
"Lilhy and her new Order, no doubt." Bruce rubbed his chin.   
Jean Paul got a wide-eyed look. "New Order?"   
"Like you said, you should contact Oracle. And, Jean Paul..."   
"Yes?"   
"You'll always be under my shadow." Bruce ominously noted. "Where ever that path   
under it may lead is yours to decide, but I will be watching...closely."   
Jean Paul paused for a moment. "Is the suit still under..."   
Bruce furled his brows. "You know better than that."   
"Yeah, I did." Jean Paul Valley turned away, as he knew he would not receive a   
good-bye.   
Bruce watched as Jean Paul walked off out of sight. "Good Luck."  
  
  
  
"I still don't understand how you can beat my alarms." Oracle noted with   
pessimism.  
"Well, don't ask me." The voice stated with a dramatic flair. "I don't know   
exactly how I do it, but I just do."   
Oracle quickly spun her chair away from her computer desk, as she faced Jean   
Paul Valley. "Well handsome, it looks like you learned the disappearing act.   
And, without the getup."   
"If someone asked me to teach, I couldn't. It's strange, but the most the monks   
could do was to create some sort of natural reaction to things. It's sort of   
like taking a piece of Azrael for my permanent use." Jean Paul fumbled as he   
tried to explain it.   
Oracle simply smiled. "Don't worry about it. I get the gist. Oh, Bruce called   
ahead so I have your info ready. Bruce prepared a flight out to California."  
"California?" Jean Paul seemed puzzled.   
Oracle nodded. "Religions come and go within a few minutes out there. I believe   
your friend sees an opportunity to start the Order in her vision."   
"That's not good. I suppose I better go." Jean Paul readjusted his shoulder   
strap for his bag.   
Oracle turned around and continued progress on the work that had been   
interrupted. "Okay, give me a buzz. You know the number."   
"Where should I start?" Jean Paul thoughtfully asked.   
"San Francisco. Apparently, there's a new type of full contact sport becoming   
real popular in the streets. Apparently, even Kumite spotters go there. Kumite   
is a full contact martial art contest..."   
"I've seen the movie with that one guy. I have an idea." After his interruption,   
Jean Paul gave Barbara an unexpected hug.   
Barbara hugged back. "Keep in contact this time, or else. By the way, Bloodsport   
with Van Damme playing Frank Dux."   
  
  
  
  
Within a few hours, Jean Paul had reached his hotel. Although it wasn't   
glamorous, it did have its amenities. Two beds, a television with standard   
cable, and a bucket with cups in it.   
It would have to be enough for now. There was something else that Jean Paul had   
to investigate.   
He grabbed the mask of Azrael from his duffel bag and laid it on the bed. He   
began to reminisce as he stared intently at the mask.   
One of the monks in the monastery had worn a blindfold. When fighting Jean Paul,   
he started off with a smack to his face. His first trigger of the System started   
its magic. The main objective was to get the costume on as quick as possible,   
the most important always being the mask. During one of these sessions, a monk   
had an open hand strike while Jean Paul...Azrael was fighting. Azrael barely   
dodged as the monk revealed a knife in the hand. Azrael's mask was slashed, but   
not his face. The monk instantly gave Azrael a command to stop. As Azrael no   
longer saw a threat, Jean Paul Valley was allowed to emerge. The monk quickly   
lowered himself to the ground, and with a fingernail scratched the floor. The   
monk quickly rubbed another fingernail against the inside of the other. It   
produced several small black beads, each the equivalent size of a pinhead.   
Quickly, the monk felt the mask of Azrael as though a blind person would "read"   
a person's face. The suspicion was confirmed, as the monk ripped off his   
blindfold. The beads were strategically placed in tiny pockets in the mask to   
stimulate certain points of the nervous system along the face. As the small   
beads rolled over the face when the mask was placed on it, The System's final   
trigger for the transformation took place. There was no longer a weak human   
host, only Azrael. Jean Paul contemplated the idea of removing the beads, but   
thought it would not do a thing. The Order would always have a failsafe for   
everything. This was probably but one of many methods for the mask to make the   
final transition to Azrael. He placed the mask back into the duffel bag, and   
then lay down on the stiff bed.   
As he waited for Oracle to contact him on a specific location for the full   
contact contest, Jean Paul began to think of what exactly he would do if Lilhy   
became a crime lord while he was gone. Ever since he escaped with her from the   
Order's home, she began to sink deeper into an abyss of temptation and greed.   
That was her natural disposition though, and not a far cry from the Lilhy that   
Azrael met. She did want Brother Rollo's death, so it could pave the way for her   
ascendancy in the Order as its first woman leader. The cell phone rang alerting   
Jean Paul that Oracle had found something.   
"It took long enough." Jean Paul smartly answered.   
A little sigh came over the phone. "Hey, it takes a little longer for stuff like   
this. Believe me, you don't know how much this one cost Bruce."   
"I suppose I should get a real job so I can pay stuff on my own." Jean Paul   
scratched his head.  
"I wouldn't try unless you win a Nobel Prize or a lottery. Anyway, it's deep in   
the heart of Chinatown. I don't suppose the System taught you how to speak   
Mandarin."   
Jean Paul never thought of foreign languages as being part of the System.   
However, an assassin must know what his enemy intends to do, and Azrael may be   
able to understand the gambit of dialects. "I guess I find out for sure. I guess   
I should have stuck with the monks a little longer."   
"Don't worry about it sweetheart. I'm sure they have at least one translator for   
every fighter." Oracle coughed on the last part.   
Jean Paul instantly knew what this meant. "This is not the kind of test that I   
wanted."   
"Well," Oracle paused, "it's the only way you'll be allowed into that place."   
  
  
  
  
Jean Paul walked into the beginning of Chinatown, a veritable tourist trap   
waiting to catch its prey. Oddly, Jean Paul felt like he was Van Damme as his   
escort started to take him into the deeper recesses of Chinatown. They were on a   
carriage pulled by one man.   
"You know this is a little weird. It's all too similar to that movie." Jean Paul   
noted out loud.   
His Chinese host smiled, as she brushed her long black hair back. "It was   
accurate in some part. There is an invisible line that separates the Tourist   
part from the main area."   
"And, I suppose Americanization has let women become messengers."   
She smiled again, her American accent and language clear as day. "American males   
are more open to females."   
"So our macho attitudes spill every little strategy while your escorting us to   
the arena. An American winning the Kumite must have really messed things up for   
you."   
She nodded. "You are very perceptive. The Triad wants an Oriental to be the   
reigning champion again. And, they allow street fighting to spot true fighters   
to participate in the Kumite."   
"At least your honest, but my strategy is already revealed on my arms." Jean   
Paul pulled up his long sleeve to reveal enough of the Dragon scar.   
The woman immediately bowed her head. "It is extremely rare to have one of your   
stature participate in an event, venerable one."  
"It's out of the question according to what has been taught to me. But, there   
are exceptions to every rule. And, I have one."   
"I will not pry any further, sir. I meant no dishonor."   
Jean Paul Valley patted the young woman on her shoulder. "There is no dishonor   
in curiosity, until it becomes something more than that."   
Jean Paul thought of Barbara's earlier question. "Can you do a favor and speak   
in your native tongue?"   
The woman seemed perplexed about the question, but thoughts of disobeying a   
master made any confusion gone in a heartbeat. She cleared her throat. "Can you   
understand me? *" {*Translated from the Mandarin dialect}  
Jean Paul frowned, as it came out to him as nothing but garbled words. "I guess   
I won't find out the answer to my question until..."   
"Until what sir?"   
"It is part of the reason I'm here. I better not discuss it." Jean Paul stated   
as he cursed himself for almost releasing the fact he was an Azrael for the   
Order.   
The woman thought for a moment, and figured this must be some sort of tactic on   
the Master's behalf to befuddle her. "As you wish, sir."   
The rest of the ride was a quiet one, until the man pulling the carriage looked   
back and gave the woman a dark stare. The woman was flustered as she thanked   
Buddha for the Master not seeing this little wordless exchange.   
"Venerable one, how long have you been practicing the arts?"   
"About six months, maybe more. I honestly don't know since the monks didn't keep   
calendars around."   
The carriage jolted as the man pulling it almost let go. "Sorry, sorry." He   
apologized in the deep accent often encountered by Americans in Chinese   
Restaurants.   
Jean Paul didn't need to have Arzael's enhanced senses to tell it was faked.   
Instantly, he surmised the set up. The woman was supposed to make him talk,   
while the man gathered the information needed. He knew that this was a culture   
inside of another one, so he thought it would do best to release little snippets   
in order to please the snitch and prevent the girl from being harmed.   
"I mastered all the styles including the ones with weapons. I even learned that   
little trick where you make your stomach hard as iron." Jean Paul gave an inward   
smile about the little white lie.  
The man smiled at Jean Paul, then winked at the woman. "We be there soon. No   
more bumps, promise."   
  
  
  
  
"Welcome, and begin." The ring announcer motioned to the two martial artists.   
The crowd roared as a volley of kicks, throws, and punches were used between the   
two competitors.   
"They are rabble. I think I will not find one worthy of the title of Azrael like   
this." Lilhy coldly noted to her Chinese host.   
He nodded his head. "Yes, they are merely Americans trying to be movie stars.   
But, it is good to weed the lawn so greener grasses may grow."   
"Skip the Confucius rhetoric and show me that the Order does not need the System   
to have an Azrael. It is one of our most vulnerable weaknesses to have a set   
method of attack. I am looking for something new."   
The Chinese man gazed at Lilhy intently. "You have been very reasonable with the   
Triad into giving secrets of the Old Order. And, it worries me that you would   
even try to maintain the Order of Dumas. It has many enemies within the circles   
of those who created martial arts"   
"They are fools. The Order was merely the first to steal the forbidden   
techniques, some even forgotten by your own people. It would be unwise to try to   
kill me because I may be the only one left besides Azrael to teach those   
techniques."   
The Chinese man looked at the two tired men that were still fighting. "Yes, I   
think that is the exact reason that my task as guardian has been easy."   
"I need no protection. Now, stop wasting my time and show me something other   
than this." Lilhy lowered her head and pouted like a child.   
"Very well." With a snap of the fingers, both men were taking off the mat by a   
thin, muscularly built man. The man moved his right arm above his head like a   
professional fencer, while keeping his left arm positioned like a claw.   
"You speak of arcane arts, so you shall have it. This one has taught himself in   
the pattern of the Scorpion. It is not one of the traditional Gung Fu styles,   
and I'm sure he will meet with your expectations."  
"Less talk and more proof that you can provide me with what I need."   
The Chinese man gave a signal for open fighting, meaning that anyone willing   
enough to take on the opponent could do so. The crowd chanted for someone brave   
enough to come forward. They were surprised to see a young blond American man   
with glasses step into the ring. Lilhy stood up as she recognized him.   
"Jean Paul!" Her voice was lost in the shouts of the audience.   
The Chinese man saw her and looked at the man. "Is this your Azrael? Does he not   
need the costume to fight?"  
Lilhy nodded in confirmation. "The System doesn't provide protection forever."   
Jean Paul took off his glasses, and his dress shirt so he had more freedom of   
movement. The Scorpion Master noticed the burn tattoos of a master, and gave a   
respectful bow. Jean Paul returned the courtesy, as the Scorpion Master raised   
his arm over his head again. Jean Paul recognized the odd combination of a   
Fencer's arm posture combined with a defensive stance. Instantly, the rigorous   
training took hold of his thoughts. He was no longer Jean Paul Valley,   
but...Jean Paul Valley. Jean Paul would have to get used to the notion of   
actually not having the System start its 'magic'.   
Jean Paul's thoughts were interrupted with a clawed hand to his throat. As he   
gasped for air, the System did start to take over. The transformation started   
with Jean Paul's eyes getting a wild look of fire in his eyes. As Jean Paul   
started to fade beneath the purifying blaze, more of Azrael came to the surface.   
The Scorpion master witnessed the change of demeanor from a man gasping for air   
to one who didn't even seem to need air to breathe. A System driven Azrael   
quickly took the opportunity to take the Scorpion master's grip, and used a   
combination counter grip and block to instantly made the Scorpion master let go.   
  
Just as quickly came a volley of kicks and punches from Azrael until the   
Oriental man barely held his own body up. The fires of Azrael were   
satisfactorily quenched with the blood and sweat of the opponent and let Jean   
Paul gain full control again. Jean Paul knew that hesitation meant the other   
master would catch his wind. With the swift graceful roundhouse kick to the   
man's chin, Jean Paul finished the job Azrael started. Lilhy stood with her   
mouth agape surprised that this was not Azrael's doing, but obviously under Jean   
Paul's own will. The Triad escort grabbed Lilhy.   
"Come, he is obviously searching for you. We must go now."   
Lilhy was too stunned to put up much of a fight. "He fought without Azrael."  
Jean Paul saw the flood of happy betters congratulating him with their waving   
money. It gave him less satisfaction that the harm caused to the comatose man   
earned someone else a month's rent or more. Jean Paul began to go out as he   
thought he saw a man tugging a long black haired woman. The curly raven hair   
reminded him of Lilhy's. As he started to follow the couple, Jean Paul was   
barraged with offers of management from a crowd gathering behind him.   
  
"I think she was there, but I got ambushed...sort of speak." Jean Paul reported   
on the phone to Oracle.   
"Well, don't give up too early. I'm sure she'll turn up again. Oh, thanks for   
the tip with that acupuncture remark."   
Jean Paul scratched his head. "Acupuncture remark?"   
"Yeah, you said that you were glad the beads weren't needles. I didn't think of   
what the beads did until I did some cross-referencing with needles. So, do you   
think that it's just the mask or all of the costume?"   
"Oh right." Jean Paul responded to the first remark. "Actually, I haven't   
checked the other parts of the costume yet. I probably should, but The System   
always placed priority on the mask."   
"Well, I'm afraid I have bad news. It seems that there won't be another fight   
for another week. Are you going to stick around?"   
"Not for the entire week. I thought I saw Lilhy at the fight. She might still be   
around here somewhere. I need his tracking abilities to find her tonight."   
"It's too bad the monks couldn't give you access to everything." Oracle   
sympathetically lamented.   
"If they did, I would be Azrael and not Jean Paul Valley." He worryingly   
countered.   
"Don't fret. Keep in touch okay. I miss that beautiful voice of yours." Oracle   
hung up before Jean Paul could respond.   
Jean Paul got the full costume out of the huge duffel bag that carried it. After   
donning all but the mask, he hesitated. He shoved past the feeling of   
uneasiness, and grabbed the mask. Quickly, he put it over his face, and felt an   
intense sensation like a thousand little bugs were crawling over his face. This   
feeling faded away as The System gave rise to Azrael once more. Azrael swiftly   
opened the window and removed the screen and placed inside the room, then   
disappeared into the night.   
  
  
  
  
The patrol ran nowhere and Azrael grew impatient. Throughout the star light   
night, he ran into several falsely identified women. No doubt a little of Jean   
Paul's anxiousness seemed to cloud his judgment. Azrael shoved the little bit of   
Jean Paul left back into his mind. Fortunately, it came at the best time as a   
woman walked alone to a little shop around where the fight was scheduled. Azrael   
sneaked in and out of shadows as the woman continued a brisk pace. She stopped   
at a side door not connected to the shop, but to a small apartment addition. She   
disappeared inside as the door was quietly shut behind. The former assassin   
thought it was better for subtlety than swiftness as he reached the door. Azrael   
activated a small lock pick in his gauntlet and unlocked the door. After opening   
the door, Azrael was greeted with a candle-lit entryway with a flight of stairs   
and a hallway leading to another room. He softly closed the door and lightly   
stepped along the floor. Around the room were various banners with an all too   
familiar crest: The Order of Dumas. Azrael continued down a hallway only to find   
a small kitchen. He quickly ascended the stairs with the grace of a cat. It was   
dark save for a glowing light emanating from a closed door at the end of the   
upper hall. Azrael extended one blade just in case this was a trap. He softly   
turned the door handle and stepped into the room. He found the black hair woman   
skyclad and performing a familiar ritual with a beating stick.   
"Sister Lilhy." Azrael's voice grated with the force of omnipotence.   
The woman turned around as she was startled by the voice. She saw a towering   
crimson figure with Auric fists, and this made her shiver in fear rather than be   
embarrassed from her obvious lack of clothing.   
"I have transgressed against the Order. I have done wrong. Please, grant me a   
swift death." She babbled through a myriad of tears.   
Azrael was frustrated, since he was led astray once more. "Where is Sister   
Lilhy?"  
"I don't know. Our Master who bears our grace doesn't keep us apprised of her   
whereabouts. However, the warriors that pass the tests here go to some remote   
base in the Midwest to train. The mistress often goes there to oversee their   
training. That is all I know."   
Satisfied with the answer, Azrael turned and left the woman whom continued to   
cry in the corner. Azrael exited the apartment as Jean Paul was allowed to come   
back out. Jean Paul quickly cursed Azrael's harsh treatment of the woman. The   
matter didn't cloud Jean Paul's mind for long. As he quickly went back to the   
hotel while making sure not to attract attention, the decision to continue his   
search for Lilhy would run rampant through his mind. 


End file.
